As he travels from Chau Doc to Ho Chi Minh City, Nick Redmayne encounters a
country brimming with energy and optimism.

On the Bassac river, rafts of water hyacinth floated in the midstream current, pursued by rumbling barges and spluttering long-tailed boats vying for open water. Fishermen stood on the prows of their narrow skiffs, casting nets into the late-afternoon breeze, disturbing the reflections of the setting sun.

Close to the Cambodian border in southern Vietnam’s Mekong Delta, the Bassac is overlooked by the town of Chau Doc. I’d travelled there earlier in the day by road from the central Mekong Delta district of Can Tho, and I needed to stretch my legs. Along the town’s corniche, paunchy middle-aged men jogged, a children’s karate class practised kata to the count and a circle of young men competed to keep a wicker ball airborne to the amusement of a trio of admiring girls.

Following the path as it left the river’s course, I entered a market street where densely packed stalls were already being tidied away, the throng of shoppers and scooters separating to reveal soupy organic pools amid the cardboard and plastic flotsam of a day’s trading.

At a modest open-fronted bar, a television held customers in the thrall to some dubbed Chinese historical drama. I sat down at one of the bar’s metal tables and ordered a Saigon beer.

A second bottle arrived along with Qan, a wiry and intense cyclo-taxi pedaller. “I wasn’t born here,” he told me. “Born in the country. Something different, not buildings like this.” He pointed at several five- and six-storey blocks. “I rent a room for me and two kids. In one month, 20 days bad, 10 good. If I earn 250 dollars [approximately £160] then I have extra money.”

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It might have sounded like a hard luck story angling for a beer but something about Qan’s delivery made me hesitate. “I sometimes carry seven people, like you maybe four…” He lit a cigarette and asked my age, surprised when I told him I was almost 46. “I’m 40, I thought you were the same age.” He was quiet for a while, perhaps contemplating my easy life.

I paid my bill, included a beer for Qan, and left. It was dark now. Behind closed and covered market stalls an old man stood holding court to an assembled group and lit a roll of newspaper. The group watched as the torch was waved and the flames grew. Suddenly, firecracker snaps erupted from the paper, sending sparks through the gloom. After a moment’s silence, the group laughed loudly. Farther along, other men sat in rows five deep, their faces lit by a football match on television; on an island of boxes a family chatted loudly and drank rice wine. Close by, asleep beside his wares, a white-haired trader snored gently – goodnight Vietnam.

Pagoda at the base of Sam Mountain, Mekong Delta,

The next day I threw open my room’s balcony doors to the morning, allowing the sunshine to stream in. I was booked on a fast boat from my hotel’s jetty, bound for Long Xuyen, 40 miles away, where a car to Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon) would be waiting. The hotel’s smiling manager, Trinh Quang Man, joined me for breakfast.

“I was here to see the last French convoy leave – soldiers giving candies to everyone. Then I saw the first Americans arrive, basketball players, I think. First balls then bombs.” He laughed wryly. “This country, the French, the Japanese, even British were here, then the Americans, and then 'closed’ for 30 years – we’ve seen a lot.” Man shook my hand warmly and led me down to the waiting boat, waving as I left.

Once the river widened the skipper opened the throttle. Retreating to the aft open deck, I sheltered below the cabin roof and watched the white froth of the wake peak and relax into coffee-coloured water. Slower barges filled with sand floated dangerously low in the river, cantilevered cabins hanging over sterns inhabited by lolling families, decks patrolled by dogs and chickens. For a time the shore was described by rows of brick kilns, brown smoke casting a sepia hue across the riverscape. Soon, though, the gaudy gilt and red of a Cao Dai temple emerged, the air clearing quickly to reveal age-old agricultural greens of rice paddies and pastures.

Driving from Long Xuyen to Ho Chi Minh City, I thought how the grins of model workers on billboards of Communist propaganda seemed at odds with the clamour of roadside advertising.

Vietnam’s recent changes have certainly allowed for economic growth, but the benefits have not yet extended to the road network.Constant vigilance, heightened by regular doses of tongue-numbing ca phe sua da (Vietnamese iced coffee), were required to maintain an edge over the antics of vans, militant scooter riders, donkey carts and suicidal cyclists. A truck lying on its side proved that caffeine wasn’t always enough.

In Ho Chi Minh City, I dumped my bags, hailed a motorcycle taxi and melted briefly into the seething streets of scooters. I was heading for lunch at The Rex Hotel. At its rooftop bar, one-time haunt of GIs, politicos and war correspondents, I had lofty views over District One. Below, the opera house, Notre Dame cathedral and City Hall were bordered by traffic-clogged thoroughfares, all these landmarks spectators as Vietnam’s tumultuous recent history unfolded.

At street level, a block away from the Rex Hotel, Graham Greene designated the Hotel Continental the haunt of noisy Americans; but it was here that he stayed when crafting intriguing tales of quiet ones, too. Risking death by a thousand small motorcycles, I crossed the road and wandered through a side door, finding the hotel almost deserted, staff consumed by preparations for a pharmaceutical conference. How times have changed.

Is Vietnam your average one-party Communist state? Undoubtedly not. The country’s new economy has been wholly embraced and in some places such is the free-market transformation that it’s easy to mistake images of Ho Chi Minh for those of Colonel Sanders.

The same can’t be said of political reforms, but there is a palpable atmosphere of energy and optimism. As new direct flights with Vietnam Airlines to Ho Chi Minh City and Hanoi have simplified travel and shaved hours from journey times, it’s a good time to discover that Vietnam is a country and not a war.

Buffalo Tours (0084 4 3828 0702; buffalotours.com) offers village treks, home stays and city tours on tailor-made itineraries escorted by local guides.

PACKAGES

I travelled with Bridge & Wickers (020 7483 6555; bridgeandwickers.co.uk), which offers an eight-day tour of Vietnam’s Mekong Delta and Hoi An from £1,799 per person, including direct flight from Gatwick and connections in Vietnam, an English-speaking guide, air-conditioned vehicles and seven nights’ b & b in Victoria Hotels & Resorts in Can Tho, Chau Doc and Hoi An (see “The Best Hotels”, below).

WHEN TO GO

Most of the country experiences monsoon rains in July; Hoi An receives further heavy downpours from late October to November. That said, March to May and October are probably the best times for countrywide exploration, but for the south alone November to February sees dryer and cooler days.

THE INSIDE TRACK

Xe om (motorcycle taxis) may have a dubious safety record but they’re a way of life in Vietnam, and for short journeys, scooters are the best way to negotiate traffic-clogged city streets. Always agree a fare in advance, wear the helmet provided and hang on.

Ca phe sua da, a combination of ice, high-roast coffee and sweetened condensed milk, may not sound appealing, but drink it in a hammock at a roadside café in the Mekong Delta and it’s sublime.

River travel provides a stress-free alternative to Vietnamese roads, combining a fresh perspective with a comfortable means of transport. The Mekong offers many different trips; a three-day private cruise, picking up in Ho Chi Minh City and cruising to Can Tho, including accommodation ashore and most meals, costs from £280 per person, based on two travelling. Contact Buffalo Tours (4 3828 0702; buffalotours.com).

The War Remnants Museum in Ho Chi Minh City (8 3930 5153; warrmhcm@gmail.com) warrants a visit, not only for relics of the war, but also for its imagery and style of presentation, reminders that through the hubbub of commerce, Vietnam remains a one-party Communist state.

THE BEST HOTELS

Victoria Chau Doc Hotel ££

The best place in town for location and quality; overlooks the Bassac river, and upper-floor rooms offer views towards the Three River Crossing and floating Cham villages beyond (0084 76 386 5010; victoriahotels.asia; double b & b from £99).

Victoria Can Tho Resort £££

An airy, low-rise, colonial-style building set back from the Bassac river in shady gardens. The resort’s chefs run cookery courses that include visits to the local markets – eat what you cook (710 381 0111; victoriahotels.asia; double b & b £115).

Victoria Hoi An Beach Resort and Spa £££

On a quiet stretch of white sand at Cua Dai, three miles from Unesco-designated Hoi An, this is more resort than hotel. Claude, the manager, is a historic vehicle enthusiast and runs sidecar tours using restored Vietnamese police motorbikes (510 392 7040; victoriahotels.asia; double b & b from £121).#

THE BEST RESTAURANTS

Mrs Qui’s Street Foodstall, Chau Doc £

Usually parked off Le Loi Street in Chau Doc, Mrs Qui’s is typical of many Vietnamese food stalls. Simple, tasty prawn and squid dishes served piping hot with rice and sweet chilli sauce for less than 60p.

The Rex Hotel has several restaurants but for lunch or dinner with a view, head for the roof. It’s tame now, but the restaurant there was once the venue for US military press briefings (141 Nguyen Hue Blvd; 8 3829 2185; rexhotelvietnam.com).